


Competence

by Mireille



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Community: femslash_minis, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-19
Updated: 2006-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-13 10:25:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13568634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mireille/pseuds/Mireille
Summary: She's surprisingly good at being Anne.





	Competence

Anne isn't the name she was born with, any more than Lily or Chanterelle or Sister Sunshine or anybody else she's ever been, but she almost feels like it's her real name anyway--the name for the person she's supposed to be, like all the false starts and floundering were just to get her here, because she's good at being Anne. Anne is _competent_ ; she can wheedle extra cases of fruit cocktail and Spaghetti-Os out of the food bank and persuade the phone company to give the shelter one more month to catch up on the bill and even convince Vanessa Banks, _finally_ , that going back to that sorry excuse for a boyfriend is a bad idea, and maybe she ought to see if she can move back in with her grandma. 

She's never been competent before; she's always needed someone--some guy--to take care of her. That's mostly why she hooked up with them in the first place, because she thought they'd look after her. But Anne's different, and this is not about being taken care of. 

It's not about a guy, either, which is another mostly new thing. Chanterelle made out with girls sometimes, because wanna-be vampires thought being bi was cool, but she only screwed guys, and mostly because she thought she owed them for being nice to her. 

Anne would smack Chanterelle silly, if she could--if Chanterelle were an actual separate person, and not just someone Anne was for a few months a couple of years ago. If a girl like Chanterelle turned up at the shelter, Anne would have spent hours trying to get her to see how stupid she was--and maybe that's why she didn't give up on 'Nessa Banks, because look what's happened to Chanterelle.

This is definitely not like all the guys she hooked up with back then. She doesn’t owe Cordelia anything, isn't asking Cordelia to take care of her, and for as long as she's been Anne, she hasn't had time to care whether or not she's cool. She's had more important things to worry about. 

Right now, though, she's not worrying about them either, because it's really hard to think about anything outside this room, not when Cordelia's just unbuttoned her blouse and stepped out of her slacks, and Anne is supposed to be distracting her from thinking about work and her friend who got shot (which is Anne's fault, kind of, but she'd ask them for help again to protect the kids at East Hills if she had to) and everything else that has apparently gone wrong in Cordelia's life lately. 

Anne realizes she's staring, and it's possible Cordelia's not the only one who's going to be distracted. 

Chanterelle would have been envious of the black lace underwear that definitely doesn't look like it came from Wal-Mart; Lily would have worried that Cordelia would look down on her for the pink nylon underpants she was wearing--four for three bucks, because even cheap new underwear helps make up for secondhand everything else--and Sister Sunshine would have been shocked by the vanity, or at least pretended to be. 

Anne just wants to get it out of the way, to slip her fingers inside the elastic and into the slick wetness that told her the distraction plan is going according to schedule. She doesn't wait for Cordelia to unhook her bra; she steps forward and does it for her. Cordelia kisses her, with a kind of hesitancy that answers Anne's question about whether or not she's been into girls before today, and then with an urgency that reassures her, screw the past, she's into girls _now_. 

Chanterelle would have expected candles and music and slow seduction; Lily would have wanted to hear "I love you," before she went any further; but Anne's just glad she isn't either of them any more, because Cordelia's breasts are soft and heavy in her hands, the skin warm from the sun coming through the bedroom window, and when Anne bends down and flicks her tongue against one nipple, Cordelia whimpers. Anne lets herself slide two fingers under black lace and elastic, and the whimper comes again as Cordelia grinds against her hand. 

She takes her hand away, leading Cordelia to the bed where she can give Cordelia's breasts the attention they deserve without getting a crick in her neck, because Anne has an unexpected streak of common sense in her. 

Cordelia protests, argues, demands, everything but begs for Anne to touch her again, but that's another thing that's new for this life; Anne doesn't always listen when people tell her what to do. She keeps her hands on the bed, only touching Cordelia with tongue and lips, back and forth between Cordelia's breasts until the nipples are stiff and puckered, and Cordelia's gasping, back arching when Anne sucks one into her mouth. 

She _does_ like the way Cordelia looks, all flushed and sweaty, and she likes the moan when she finally yanks Cordelia's underwear down past her knees and slides down on the bed, licking and tasting and pushing her tongue in, deep inside Cordelia, as far as she can go. She listens, finally, to the demands for more, replacing tongue with fingers--deeper, and twisting them a little to feel Cordelia squirm--so that she can turn her attention to Cordelia's clit, which is a word that most of the girls she used to be would have sworn they didn't know. 

Anne knows a lot of things, and she's learning more, like that the gentlest scrape of teeth will make Cordelia's hips buck, and exactly how to make Cordelia shudder and scream and clench around Anne's hand, tight enough that when she pulls away, her fingers ache a little. 

She scoots back up in the bed, not giving Cordelia a chance to get her breath before leaning in for a long, slow, messy kiss. She reaches for one of Cordelia's hands, placing it between her thighs, just in case Cordelia needs a hint as to what happens next. 

She's been people who would have worried about whether she ought to ask for that, whether she's done enough for Cordelia yet, but Anne just takes in the slightly dazed smile Cordelia gives her and grins back; she can't have done too badly. 

Anne thinks she could get used to being someone competent.

**Author's Note:**

> She's surprisingly good at being Anne.


End file.
